An excerpt from *James Gilmour's* biography that we are almost done with: The greatest source of Gilmour’s mental struggles was what he saw as a lack of immediate success. He longed—deeply and almost painfully—to see signs that the Gospel had broken through the spiritual darkness of those he encountered daily. He yearned for proof that the love of Christ was taking hold in the hearts of the Chinese and Mongols, much like a mother longs to see her children grow in love and understanding. But disappointment weighed heavily on him. The delayed arrival of a medical colleague, constant obstacles in securing suitable mission premises, and the betrayal of trust by some of the very people he had hoped to rely on—these, combined with the relentless demands of his daily work, left him physically and emotionally drained. To those who truly understood his hardships, the surprise was not that he eventually broke down, but that it had not happened sooner. There are many forms of heroism, but few reach the level of this patient sower of the Gospel, laboring in Mongolia’s unyielding soil. He continued his work faithfully, stopping only when his medical colleague, alarmed by his condition, insisted that he must step back for a time—not because Gilmour himself recognized his failing strength, but because others saw that he could endure no more.